


Three Words, Eight Letters, I'm Yours

by it_was_like_slow_motion



Category: British Actor RPF, Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mattex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/it_was_like_slow_motion/pseuds/it_was_like_slow_motion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>God, no. She hadn't just done that. There had to be a way to rewind, to talk to him, to get him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Words, Eight Letters, I'm Yours

He really disliked it when they argued. He felt stupid, for ever doing anything to displease her, but he had no idea why she was so strung up about the fact he stayed after work a little late.

She came stomping into their bedroom and threw a jar at him, narrowly missing his head as his hand flashed up to catch it in an unexpected moment of grace. Her glare made him shift uncomfortably, and he unscrewed the jar without comment, handing it back to her with the lid in his other hand.

"Bastard." She muttered as she left.

"Lex?" He called after her. Her footsteps halted. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"Don't play dumb with me." She stormed back into the room, looking significantly angrier than when she had left. He cowered into the corner of the room, trying to hide the fear on his face.

"Who is she?" She continued, tears beginning to stream down her face.

"Who is who?" He asked.

"Your side girlfriend." She spat.

"What side girlfriend?" All of a sudden he was on the offensive, too, his gangly body puffing up in anger of the accusation.

"It always starts with staying late at work." Alex sobbed before turning on her heel and racing out to the kitchen to hide the tears that were now cascading down her cheeks.

He waited a moment before deciding to follow her, ducking into the kitchen after her and attempting to pull her into a bear hug. "What's wrong?"

"Get off me." She broke out of his grip easily, turning to face him with her body already prepared to fight.

"I was just staying late, Alex - you know how shooting can be." He took a step forward, but she took a larger step back.

"I called Steven after the third time you stayed late." She looked up at him with eyes that showed how every fibre of her being was pulled apart by his supposed betrayal.

"So now you don't trust me to tell you where I've been?" He began bristling.

"Obviously that was a well-founded belief, because there's an hour missing between when you get home and when you leave work." She sobbed.

"It's all my fault." He said sarcastically. "It's always my fault, no matter what I do!"

"So are you confessing?" She prompted.

"No!" He shouted, gripping a small object in his hand as if it were his lifeline.

"Then what have you been doing all this time?" She slammed the jam jar down on the counter, and it cracked with a loud splintering noise.

"I can't tell you." His knuckles were white around the object in his hand.

"That's as much of a confession as I need!" She screamed.

"Fine then! I'll go and - and -" He was at a loss for words, so instead he just hurled the object towards her. She ducked, and by the time she got back up, he was halfway to the door.

"Hope you're happy with Little Miss Slut!" She called after him. The door slammed in response.

She returned to the kitchen and slid to the ground, exhausted. She had thought he was different, and it hurt that he hadn't been. She was drained, tired of trusting and being broken. She couldn't see through her tears as she began cleaning up the broken glass from the jam jar and absentmindedly licking jam off her fingers.

When she was done, all she wanted to do was sleep. Hold him close and sleep, but obviously she could only have the one. She trudged through the kitchen, and her toe hit something hard, but light. She looked down to see a little box, probably whatever Matt had thrown at her.

She couldn't help but reach down and pick it up. She rated the weight again in her hand, and a knot began to form in the pit of her stomach. It was the right size, and weight.

God, _no_. She hadn't just done that. There had to be a way to rewind, to talk to him, to get him back.

She couldn't bear to look at the ring. She wanted to, she wanted to so desperately, but she wanted him to show it to her, ask her to take it in his sweet little voice, not fling it at her in desperate rage.

“Oh, Matt.” She murmured into the still of the air. She wasn’t sure what she would do if she called him and he didn’t pick up. Or, for that matter, what she would do if she called him and he did.

She was saved the trouble when the phone rang. Her brain told her it wasn’t him, there was no way it could be him, but her heart sung with hope.

“Hullo?” Her voice sounded scratchy, so she cleared her throat and repeated it. “Hello?”

“Didn’t think you were going to pick up.” His voice shook and she wished she could hold him.

“Didn’t think you were going to call.” She said, willing her own voice to stay even.

“I’m sorry.” He breathed.

“I’m sorry, too.” She replied.

“I – if you want, I can come by and pick up my stuff tomorrow.” He said.

“No – Matt – please stay.” She blurted. “What I mean is – come back. Please.”

“Alex.” He sighed. “Obviously you don’t want me and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What do you mean, I don’t want you?”

“You see right through me.” He whispered. “It’s like I’m not even there.”

“You’re always there.” She murmured back.

The phone line went dead and she was left stunned and still without him.

She stood, basking in the silence, for ten or fifteen minutes. She only moved when the doorbell rang, stumbling slightly as she went to answer its insistent call.

“Three words, eight letters, I’m yours.” He mumbled.

“I love you.”

And just like that, they’re okay again. She didn’t mention the ring, but that would come in time.

For now, all that mattered were his lips on hers.


End file.
